


Force Becomes the Diadem

by alivedovedoeat



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bad Sex, F/F, Post-Canon, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alivedovedoeat/pseuds/alivedovedoeat
Summary: If it hadn’t been for everything else, Hilda might have been moved to defer her pleasure and embrace her, telling her it was all right. She might have apologized for being inattentive. She might have even used one of the lines really bound to please her, like “They’re just afraid of what they don’t understand,” or, “They won’t be able to stand in the way of progress forever.”Instead, she leaned over so that her chest hung before Edelgard’s face and said, “There’s no reason for you to cry when you’ve got such a lovely consort to take care of you.”Hilda pushes her luck.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Kudos: 24





	Force Becomes the Diadem

“Everybody has to stop having nice things, so we can build more schools for blind orphans or something,” said the Emperor, except that she had to dress it up in terms of taxes or property rights for all the assembled nobles. Hilda remembered just enough to follow her from the lessons she’d had to take when she was young, which were silly enough when Holst was going to be managing the estate’s finances, and pointless now that it was all going to some deserving peasant child who probably thought doing sums was a good time.

This was all fine; Hilda didn’t need to understand exactly what Edelgard was saying. Her role, which was still way too much of a pain this early, was to recognize when Edelgard was trying to big dog a crowd and then back her up. So she stood from the armrest on which she was not supposed to be seated, but hells if she was going to stay on her feet for two hours. She wrapped one hand around Edelgard’s waist and traced the other from her overstuffed shoulder to her fingertips.

The assembly turned a shade pinker, one of them going so far as to loosen his collar. That was enough of a success to warrant another sit, though it could have gone better, Hilda suspected, if the Emperor hadn’t gone red herself.

“Back before I took the throne, Adrestian emperors sometimes had flaws,” Edelgard had more or less said when this whole arrangement began. “They weren’t unimpeachable little fonts of republican virtue.”

She had paced the length of the cell where Hilda spent the last months of the war, never looking right at her.

“One of the many un-Edelgardly things they did was having a lot of wives, to show how big their dicks were. People would see an emperor with important noble bitches’ daughters and be like, ‘Woah! He must be hung!’ The biggest dick wife an emperor could have in their harem, though, was a high-ranking noblewoman from a country whose shit they’d conquered, much as I have regretfully conquered House Goneril’s shit.

“I don’t like forcing people to be my wife, because I am woker than all the saints put together,” she said, and at this point she got all weird and sincere and actually grabbed Hilda’s hands. “But if you don’t play sexy Imperial concubine with me, all the nobles who I am probably having killed either way will think my meat is tiny.”

Hilda was certain she’d made a strong case that Edelgard’s meat was huge. Nevertheless, the discussion ended with some platitude about achieving a reasonable balance of nice things and peasant literacy programs, which seemed like the kind of treatment they gave emperors who were, generously, six inches. For all the trouble she put Hilda through, Edelgard had gotten this kind of response more or less every time she held one of these. 

The nobles clapped when it was over and Edelgard clapped with them, which, wife or no wife, seemed like a small dick move. She sat, with one hand on her armrest and the other, whose place Hilda had taken, in her lap, until they had left, and then walked to the door in what she couldn’t have realized was a huff. Hilda followed her. On the way back to her chambers she bumped into a maid and said “Sorry,” in a grunt that probably made the girl fear for her life.

When this had all started, Edelgard had gone on after every appearance Hilda put in about what a great help she was, and how she was very sorry for the inconvenience but it was all for the sake of a future where people like her had to get real jobs. As things stalled and it became clear that those people might keep rising in the afternoon for decades to come, the praise had dried up. She’d come to expect kurt instructions and a dismissal.

Today, Edelgard didn’t speak a word. She sat at her desk and stared at it, hands against her forehead, without the least sign she realized Hilda was there. She had to say something before this got worse.

“So no new hospital for the old ladies, huh, boss?”

Edelgard faced her. “Hilda, the subject of today’s assembly,” she began, before being interrupted, to her surprise as much as Hilda’s, by a sob. Hilda could see tears before her face sank into the stack of papers below her. In a smaller voice, she finished: “was agricultural policy.”

Edelgard was the woman who’d wiped out the army she and Claude had spent years putting together, every Goneril soldier a testament to hours more persistence with her father than she’d ever thought possible. She had taken her from her home. She had personally beaten Claude half to death, had held Aymr over his neck, and probably would have brought it down if it weren’t for the professor, who Hilda was positive she had called mom one time during axe training and then acted like she’d said ma’am instead.

She had told Hilda she expected her to be cooperative of her own free will, because of how magnanimous she was in letting Claude run away after breaking his dreams, whatever they might have been. Because there was no status in her perfect world, she had quartered Hilda in a little room that she shared with a kitchen girl, for whom the arrangement was probably an upgrade and who reminded her daily that things were sure to get better with someone like Her Majesty in charge.

Edelgard was face-down on her desk, shaking with tears over what was probably a minor setback anyway. “Sorry,” she managed, “it’s just all very—” —and cut herself off as her voice started to tremble again.

She was the cutest thing Hilda had seen in months.

If it hadn’t been for everything else, Hilda might have been moved to defer her pleasure and embrace her, telling her it was all right. She might have apologized for being inattentive. She might have even used one of the lines really bound to please her, like “They’re just afraid of what they don’t understand,” or, “They won’t be able to stand in the way of progress forever.”

Instead, she leaned over so that her chest hung before Edelgard’s face and said, “There’s no reason for you to cry when you’ve got such a lovely consort to take care of you.”

“Hilda,” said Edelgard, looking up to see her cleavage before quickly meeting her eyes, “I’ve never expected you to perform any of the conjugal duties of your office. Just the ceremonial. I’m truly sorry if that hasn’t been clear.”

The documents she’d cried into had left a smear of ink on her cheek, and like that, even the way she spoke like she was the only one who could retain information was cute. She took her chin in her hand.

“And if I want to perform those duties? If I want to show my Emperor just how much some people appreciate her?”

“I would, of course, be pleased.” She sniffled. “But I am not confident that, in light of our respective positions,” she said, “that this could be an equitable affair. It would wound me to take advantage.”

This was obviously just talk, because when Hilda put her tongue against her lips, they opened, and she met it with her own.

“Get on the desk,” said Hilda, a line of spit linking her mouth to Edelgard’s. “I’ll make you forget all about today.” She hoped Edelgard understood just how magnanimous she was being; she almost never finished second.

“As you like.” She stood and sat on the desk with her legs together and her hands clasped. Hilda could work with that. She set a knee on the table, took her by the wrists and eased her onto her back. “May I?” she asked, setting her fingers around a button.

“Certainly,” Edelgard replied, and Hilda opened her overcoat. Her nipples poked against the thin dress under it in the most direct statement Hilda had known her to make. She took her breasts in her hands and began to knead through the silk; Edelgard whined in a range way outside her Emperor-voice. Hilda bit her lip.

She took one bud between her teeth, ground her jaw left, and Edelgard nearly screamed, stifling it with her wrist. She took Hilda’s hand when it passed.

“It would be,” she managed, “untoward for anyone to hear.” Hilda paused and watched as she moved the hand towards her face. “Would you?”

Goddess, was she really asking for it? “Of course,” said Hilda, pressing against the Emperor’s mouth, with a little force to be extra safe. She moved now to kisses and nips down Edelgard’s neck, feeling the heat of her breath as she moaned against her hand. She had started to unbutton herself, and when she reached the end of her dress spoke, “Please,” into Hilda’s palm.

This was fantastic, because Hilda got to say, “Please, what, your Majesty?” even as she traced her fingers along Edelgard’s hips.

“I should think it’s obvious,” she said with a lilt as Hilda uncovered her mouth, “that I’d like you to penetrate me now.”

Hilda cocked her head to the side.

“Please.”

She set her hand against Edelgard’s entrance, over her underthings. Edelgard actually started to grind, as best she could with Hilda’s weight keeping her in place, and repeated, “Please.”

Hilda kissed her collarbone. “Are you planning on wearing something low-cut soon, your Majesty?”

“I am, in fact. I’m obliged to attend a gala in a few days.” She laughed and reached her hand up to stroke Hilda’s cheek. “I apologize, but I’m developing something of a reputation. I believe I’d be regarded as a bit of a prude in anything conservative.”

“In that case,” said Hilda, and she was almost certain she could get away with this, “you’ll show them just how much of a prude their Emperor really is.”

Hilda set her hand back over Edelgard’s mouth, wrapped her lips around a spot just above her chest and sucked. She hiked her underthings down her thighs and slid a finger into her. She thrashed. Edelgard was definitely relaxed enough for a second one already, so Hilda filled her with two more and shuddered as her name, muffled, came from her lips.

“It looks so good on you,” Hilda said, pulling back to admire the red-and-purple spot she’d left. “Everyone’s gonna see it, and know exactly how much all your people love you.” She kissed it. “Even the ones you lay low.”

That line must have made Edelgard feel just awful, as unwoke as her acquisitive, horny ancestors. She was in no state to express this, of course, clutching at the ends of the desk to steady herself and panting hard into Hilda’s hand.

It was so much easier to like her this way. It would be even easier to like her when this was over, when she would no doubt be grateful and guilty enough to give her whatever she liked. In the short term, of course, that would be at least three orgasms; not the furtive kind she’d had on nights she managed to stay up later than the kitchen girl, but orgasms at least as satisfying as the one Edelgard was bucking herself into.

Hilda kissed her hip, and she squirmed. “I’m so glad to see you enjoying yourself,” she said, and Edelgard nodded, or maybe just writhed, which amounted to the same thing.

She was going to push this as far as she could. Edelgard was going to understand perfectly when Hilda told her how taxing it was to perform so often, that she just didn’t have the constitution of someone like her and needed days of rest. She was going to understand that Hilda had always relied on a personal beautician and couldn’t be expected to prepare her own cosmetics every morning.

She was, of course, going to take Hilda out of that little room and let her sleep late on a big, soft bed every night. It would be an improvement even if she had to share that bed with Edelgard, which might even be pleasant if she let Hilda be the big spoon.

Edelgard was beginning to tense around her fingers. She held Hilda by the wrist, without any force, and met her eyes. Just look at her. Of course she’d let her.

Edelgard rolled her hips into her fingers one last time and held them there as she peaked. She went limp; Hilda scooped her up by the shoulders, muffling her last moans with her chest as they trailed off into heavy breathing. Edelgard hugged herself to her as she pulled out, like some kind of helpless woodland creature would. Hilda pushed up her circlet and put her lips to her forehead.

“It’s a shame,” said Edelgard, straining her neck to look at the mark Hilda left her, “but I will need a healer to take care of this later.”

Hilda hummed. “It is a shame,” she responded, and it was, because going to a party like that would have had twelve-inch energy. It was unavoidable, though; Edelgard would just have to make it up to her.

The Emperor stood, and Hilda opened her legs with a smile. “Maybe this time you’d like to leave one on me?”

Edelgard had begun to button herself up. “It’s very kind of you to offer,” she said, “and quite tempting.” She leaned in close to her. “I really must not indulge myself any more today, though.” She reached under Hilda’s leg and pulled a pile of reports off the desk, waving them demonstratively. “I’ll be quite occupied.”

Hilda stared at her.

Edelgard smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. “I hope you’re not waiting for a formal dismissal. I’m certain I’ve made it clear you’re free to move about as you like.”

Hilda stood up. Her hands were trembling, she realized. She turned towards the door, stumbling, and as she did so felt a sharp pinch on her rear, which in her fugue took her a moment to identify. 

She spun around; Edelgard was giggling. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she obviously wasn’t at all, even though she was supposed to be very, very sorry. “It was just too tempting.”

Hilda giggled back, like it was funny, like she was having fun.

“Thank you very much for that,” Edelgard said, taking her hands again, just like in the cell in Derdriu. “It did help, a great deal. I may ask for it again, sometime soon. Would that be alright?”

“Of course,” said Hilda, and then winked at her because it seemed like she would want that.

She managed to close the door behind her before screaming into her own godsdamned hand. She made off, in the direction of the room she was definitely never getting out of, bumping into that same maid from before on the way. She didn’t have to say a word to make her pause and go wide-eyed.

She wanted to kill Edelgard, except then Edelgard wouldn’t be able to get her off. She wanted to tie her hands behind her back and ride her face until she couldn’t move her tongue. She wanted to do her again, bring her just to the edge of release and then throw a bucket of ice water over her. She wanted to put her in one of those belts Claude said all the monks at Garreg Mach wore so they wouldn’t do anything impure and then throw the key into the ocean.

It was noon, which meant there was about a half-hour before lunch service ended and the kitchen girl came back, and she could rub one out thinking about doing all that. Reaching the door was a relief, and her hand was at her waist by the time she opened it.

“Miss Goneril!” said the kitchen girl, sitting on the lower bunk, which was Hilda’s, with a tea tray laid out beside her. “Happy Saint Macuil’s Day!”

“As I understand it,” said the little scullion she had apparently invited, “the twenty-first of Harpstring is now, officially, a holiday honoring the social contributions of Fódlan’s agricultural laborers.”

She laughed. “Mark me, this one’s going to govern an estate some day.”

Hilda had just enough presence of mind to wipe the Emperor’s slick on her clothes before shaking the boy’s hand.

“Please,” he said, “she says this simply because I’ve got a head for sums.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for the title mr dryden sir


End file.
